Uniting the Tribes
by Fanatic-About-It
Summary: When the son of two demigods reaches the age of fourteen, he discovers a big secret.This secret leads to uniting the Greek and Roman camps. Crappy summary. First fic, please R R. T for language in later chapters and violence.


_**Prologue Written in the perspective of Lara**_

Silence… There should be crying. Why wasn't my beautiful baby boy crying? Is he dead? No, I could feel his little heart is beating in his frail rib cage The nurses took him away for oxygen and I broke down the second they left with him. My husband, Joe, sat beside me on the bed and wrapped his arms around me. Instinctively, I put my hands on his chest, gripping his muscles and soddening his dark T-shirt. We sat there together, like always. One of the nurses came back. Her honey blonde hair tied back, revealing large brown eyes. Her voice was unusually deep, but considering her bulky frame, I wasn't surprised. It was reassuring, gentle and calming; something I, in my teary state, was surprised by, "Mrs Crawford, we are going to have to keep your son in for observation. We have put him in the neonatal ward, would you like to see him?" I nodded and she left the room momentarily to fetch a wheelchair. I slumped into it, pain seething in my legs and back when I moved. As we drew closer to the ward, I felt a knot in my stomach tighten with every breath I took. Nurses were milling over him when we entered, a tube going through his nose giving him a constant flow of oxygen. Joe wheeled me as close to him as he could. I reached out my little finger and stroked his stubby, little nose. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a tear roll down Joe's cheek but he quickly wiped it away. I guess he didn't like to be seen as soft or mushy. I didn't like it. I couldn't bear to see my son who was just mere minutes old hooked up to a machine. Tears started to trickle down my face, signalling that I wanted to leave and go back to my bed.

I decided to stay overnight for two reasons, a) I didn't want to leave my baby boy while he was still hooked up to that machine, and b) the birth had given me terrible pains in my lower back and legs. The nurse handed me a pill to sleep, but the dreams were worse that reality. It was dark and all that I could hear was a beeping noise, the sound of the heart-rate monitor he was hooked up to. I was in the vile gown the hospital had given me, my sandy blonde hair swaying behind me. I couldn't move. That's all that happened before a warming sensation enveloped itself around me, prompting my body to awaken. Taking a large gasp as I bolted up, I realised who it was. It was Joe, comforting me. I couldn't remember seeing him before I went to sleep but he must have been getting a coffee when I drifted off. And I must have been tossing a lot for him to shroud himself around me. With his warmth there to protect me, I fell instantly back into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up the next day, it was early afternoon and the pains in my back had almost gone. The bulky nurse helped me dress into jeans and a jumper, because that gown was one of the most uncomfortable and hideous things I have ever worn, and I attempted to walk to see my son. Joe and I sat there talking to him, telling him silly stories that would amuse the brain in his tiny, little head.

"Lara," Joe said as the sun began to set, "don't you think we need a name for him?" He was looking straight into my large, grey eyes. He was quite correct, our child was nameless. We had never discussed it while I was pregnant, so we had a little fun after the birth, but it couldn't have been more different. I started to choke at the prospect: "Andrew-," It was quiet but Joe could have heard it. ", after my grandfather and Joe for his middle name." Joe's brown eyes widened as I told him I wanted his name in his son's.

"Welcome to the world, Andrew Joe Crawford." Joe spoke softly; smiling a little as he stroked our son's little cheek.

Things became routine for us: I'd wake up either in the late morning or early afternoon in Joe's arms; dress; stuff some food down my throat, or at least try to; walk to Andrew's bedside and sit there with Joe for hours on end telling him stories, some that he wouldn't understand, some he would; some stories that we both knew, some we made up on spot. One night, when Joe had gone to get us some tea, I prayed to my mother, Athena: "Mother, if you're listening, I really need your help and so does Andrew. I need him; I feel it in my heart. He's special…" After that I a tear rolled down my cheek and I stopped. When Joe came back he told me he had also prayed to his father, Mars. We're demi-gods although my divine parent is Greek where Joe's is Roman. Greeks and Romans aren't meant to mix. But maybe that's why I feel that Andrew is special, because he has the blood of the two warring godly tribes. I took the hot cup thing, entwined my fingers around it and took a large gulp of tea. We started to chat, mostly about Andrew but other things like work and the dreaded baby rota.

Unknown to us, something was happening in the neonatal ward. Andrew lay there, still. His tufts of hair had finally taken the colour of sand that had just been drenched in the salty waters of the ocean. The nurses were nowhere to be seen. An orb of golden light appeared over his head, then circled his body and absorbed itself in to it. A second orb appeared of violet light appeared and copied its predecessor. The violet light disappeared as the blonde nurse came in, took one look at the machine he was hooked up to and ran out, her mouth a gaping hole.

She appeared in the room, where we were, moments later, panting that Andrew was breathing. Joe immediately scooped me onto his back and stormed to Andrew's bedside. His chest was moving up and down. He was breathing! The nurse gestured so I could hold him. I had a giant grin on my face. Everything was better after this.

The next day we were able to take him home the next day. There was only one problem, he wouldn't wake up. He just slept, and cried every so often.

One day, I was reading whilst on Andrew-Watch, the small infant lying on my bosom, I came across something, strange. In Japan they used to worship two gods, Ryuu of the Elements and Naya of Magic, a couple who gave life to babies whose parents thought that they wouldn't survive. I glanced over to Andrew and shouted to Joe, "Joe, pack a suitcase. We are going to Japan!"

Two days later we were Japan's capital, Tokyo. We found the shrine that was dedicated to Ryuu and Naya in a huge ornate garden on the outskirts of the city. I lay Andrew down on the golden table. Suddenly two figures materialized The first to appear was female. Her complexion was pinker than a normal human's and her ears were long and pointed. Her eyes were Aegean blue with a green ring around her pupil, contrasting her sunflower blonde hair with the end portion a crimson red. She wore a flowing, strapless, mulberry dress with a white stripe on the top, which highlighted her curvaceous figure. Her arms were covered in sleeves of sort and she held a large, handled war fan. Her partner was male. He had dark brown hair in a top knot, a pale complexion and translucent eyes. He wore a wide variety of clothes: dark, pointed boots that reached just below his knee, dark rusty coloured pants, and a strange grey fur-edged waistguard coloured navy blue. A yellow sweater-type thing under an orange shawl covered his torso. Two leather straps fastened over his chest with a weapon secured to each strap: a large hammer and a bladed staff. On his belt, hung a two Dao swords and a little bag, I'm not sure what was in it, but I was sure it had to be another weapon. Gods, the guy was literally a walking arsenal!

Neither spoke. Instead they each raised an arm and a ball of turquoise light appeared between their hands. It cocooned itself around Andrew and absorbed itself into him. Seconds later he opened his eyes. They were big and shaped like almonds, like mine but coloured mahogany like Joe's, but Andrew's had four little flecks of hazel in each of them. I took him off the table and cradled him in my arms. He gurgled, lifting his arms up to the strangers holding him, but he knew subconsciously who we were. I looked up to the two figures and mouthed a thank you as they disappeared. I looked back at my adorable baby boy as he smiled and gurgled at us. I held him close to my chest as I admired the family we now were.

I'm Lara Crawford, daughter of Athena. This was the story of how Andrew, my son, became the uniting figure of the two tribes.


End file.
